twisting turning unanswerable karma

What are the chances that you would be in that room tonight?  How ever in my mind did I conjure you up?  Are my powers of manifestations so strong?  Did it surprise you as much as it did me?  Or did it just seem like the most ordinary, natural thing in the world?  That we should meet over coffee and books, sharing neither.  I grieve at this charade.

I turned my head and there you were.  My hands trembled.  My breath held still within my chest.

I tried to see you, unclouded.  But I don't know how to do that.  Yet I know you are pain.  Heartbreak.  I like it better when you are in dreams.  This flesh and blood is not for me.

Now I'm home alone drinking wine and listening to Jim Cuddy on the stereo, letting incense burn.  I hate myself for wanting you.  Why don't I want to be free of this karma?  I don't understand this current that sweeps me down the river, drowning me in undertows of you.  But I rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall.  Each time gasping for air.  Filled.  Empty.  Choking.  Drowning.  Never dying.

Couldn't I at least get a decent orgasm out of all of this...

New Memories

Your eyes gleamed that day with mischief.  I saw you picking me out of the crowd long before I ever reached where you stood.  Our magnetic poles once again syncing with superpower force.  Gravity still holding us down but not apart. Out of the corner of my eye I saw your brother register that it was me, surprised by this reflection of the past.  He kept hedging a look, silently questioning, piecing together the deja vu of it all.  Condemning me for lifetimes of always finding my way back to you.

I tried to remember years back, just how it was you used to looked at me.  But the best I could recall was one time in my parents' kitchen, how you lifted me onto the washing machine and kissed me until my last sense had long fled.  You always had an intensity.   Seeing me in ways I don't think I was yet capable of seeing you.  I'd give you more credit for that now.  Now I know that you say what you say, create the moment and life as it is needed.  Did you always do that and I missed it?

On this day, I felt it as my smile wrapped you up, knew my eyes were snapping with expression.  My heart opening a channel as we matched each other word for unspoken word.   The observers read more than either of us would have liked.  I reached out to touch your arm just before I turned to go so that later, when I wanted to remember, I would know that it was real, that I could trust the memory.

Thou Shall Not...

She said what she wanted to say.  Went where she wanted to go.  Moving unconstrained with airs of simplicity, even though no one understood that.  Few could comprehend her motivations, probably because they were pure or mostly so.  Not everyone can handle freedom, she thought.  Most just want the absence of responsibility.  For freedom you must be willing to stand naked in your life, not letting it matter what the others might say.  She wanted to be and let be.  To embrace that which caught her attention and let go when it no longer served her heart.  She lived all of this with the same ease that the moon turns the tide.

Yet, you remain.  A disruption to the ocean.   She still didn't know how to handle you.  At times wishing you dead, so that the dream of you would be only that.  When she awoke, drenched from wrestling the lover ghost of you, it might bring her to weep but at least it would no longer be the impossible waking hope.

In the light, she could remember who she was, know confidence, walk with purpose.  Not wanting anyone, including you, to know the width and depth of her affection.  When he looked at her, she saw him in equal measures.  Hiding was not possible, their souls instantly, electrically entwined with each encounter.  That smile around his lips, eyes never losing their trace.  Piercing through to the whispers of her unveiled, raw, abandoned self that no one else seemed to see.

It is not easy to dissuade the heart.  God does not care either way.

100 Words

i knew the moment you arrived.

as best i could, i kept my eyes closed 

and my breathing steady,

joy made my pulse quicken,

desire, my heart skip

i came here, inclined to think 

that you might too.
unlocked our door of secrets.

anticipation keeping me awake

constraint keeping me pretending

the lights are out

i didn't want you to know

until you found me here,

burrowed away where the world 

doesn't know to look

i've dressed for sleeping

so you might 

peel me away in layers.

you laugh softly to find me here,
i smile back in the dark

100 Words

She stood in a field of wildflowers.

Daisies mostly, but others too.

And decided that not knowing, in

no way detracted from their beauty.

Or how uplifted she felt, her body

following the trajectory of the sun.

Tears welled in her eyes.

Joy held her in an unseen web.

Arms reaching out and up,

her heart so open that the breeze

passed right through her radiant self.

Life gives us these moments

over and over and over again.

But you must get yourself to the field

and let the flowers bloom in your heart.

Welcoming the warmth on your face.

Near

When we were young, she always had a sixth sense when you were near.  That tingly, hair-raising, heart-beating awareness would always wrap her up with anticipation just before you would make your appearance.  Or perhaps she just had a really keen sense of smell, ferreting out any lingering scent of Export A Gold and those unfiltered pheromones you were always wafting in her direction.

She told me she still senses you.  It's still charged with the hopeful edge that someday (someday) your physical selves will collide long into the wee hours of the morning.  But it is mostly just a sense that you are in the room.  Invisible, but there non-the-less, and aware.

Driving in My Car

I paused to think of you today.  Thinking how we've committed to these roles.  Embedded and entwined in situations we're just not sure about.  And these things are always easier to get into than they are to get out.  So much damage in the extraction.  So much drama.  Plays like a bad made for t.v. movie.

Truth is, I don't really want you that much.  But I do want you some.  Or a lot.

Maybe in an illicit affair.  Like she said we'd done in other lifetimes.  (Do you suppose that is true?)  Torrid, even.  Messy, but not impossible to overcome or undo, should the others find out.   People forgive and forget these kinds of actions all the time, right?

There is something magical about the two of us, that I am at a loss to deny.  Nor want to.